five hundred twentyfive thousand
by hwkitty
Summary: a small collection of RENT stories. Rated T for questionable language. R&R!
1. snuggie

**A/N: Dude! I just got this idea and I like it! R&R please :3 I love writing dialogue ****:]**

********

"Hey, Mark?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I want one of those Snuggie things."  
"What's a Snuggie?"  
"What's that, my dear friend? You of all people don't know what a Snuggie is?"  
"… No?"  
"Well, it's this neat thingie, and it's like a blanket-"  
"Dude, we have plenty of blankets."  
"Mark, I wasn't done with my sentence yet. It's like a blanket… with _sleeves."_  
"A blanket… with sleeves?"  
"No, Mark, with _sleeves. _You gotta say it right. _Sleeves._"  
"Whatever. We have blankets anyway."  
"But Snuggies are special! You can do special shit while you have one!"  
"Like what?"  
"Umm… read! And hug children!"  
"Since when do you do either of those?!"  
"Never. But I bet you could film with it!"  
"Ooh, really?"  
"Yep, and I could play guitar, and also they give you a free book light…"  
"And how much is it?"  
"Like fifteen bucks. Maybe."  
"We could be using that for food, Roger!"  
"Psh. Food is overrated nowadays, anyway. Would you rather starve or freeze?"  
"Where exactly did you see this commercial?"  
"At that one TV store."  
"I've got to talk to the manager. They're gonna get me killed one of these days."  
"Aw, Mark! Please? You look like a supercool wizard when you wear it!"  
"Fine, I guess."  
"YES! I'm gonna go tell Mimi. She's gonna be so jealous. I'll never ask for anything else again!"

_Two weeks later…_

"Hey Mark, can we get some of that mighty putty shit?"  
"Ugh."

****

**A/N: Eh, coulda been better. R&R though :D**


	2. kitten

**A/N: hello again, trusty reader :3 please R&R. (two in one night, yay :D)**

********

"Merry Christmas, Mimi," Roger said as he handed her a present. "I hope you like it."  
Mimi smiled and opened the box to reveal an orange kitten, who peered up at her with its large eyes.

"Aww! Thanks, Roger!" Mimi exclaimed, removing the kitten from the box. She patted it on the head and looked up at her boyfriend again. "Is it a boy or a girl?"  
"Girl," Roger replied. "I figured you could use the company when I'm not around. She's already litterbox-trained," he added, smiling. He gestured to the bags at her feet. "Food, a dish, a litterbox, and some toys."

Mimi put the kitten down on the couch, where it mewed piteously, and stood up to hug Roger. "Thanks! Your gift is still on its way here," she said. "The dumb Fed-Ex people got delayed by snow or something."

Roger punched the air. "I can't wait!" he said. He scuffed his shoe on the floor. "I've gotta go watch Mark open his present real quick, before everyone else gets here and Maureen causes some drama, so come up in about five minutes, 'kay?" he asked. Mimi nodded, and he rushed out the door.

"Looks like it's just me and you, kitten," she mused. "What should I name you, anyway?"  
"Mew," the kitten answered.  
"Hey, not bad! Mew is a good name. You're lucky you're not a boy. Roger would've expected me to name you Roger Junior or something."  
"Mew," said the kitten. Mimi patted it on the head.

Mimi decided to get out the kitten stuff Roger had bought (with what money, Mimi didn't know) and poured some food and water into the double bowl. She set up the litterbox, wrinkling her nose at thoughts of cleaning it, and looked at Mew. She chewed on a fingernail, thinking.

"I know! Do you wanna come to a Christmas party with me?"  
"Mew," said Mew.


	3. you're mark?

_chapter three / woe is me / for no-one has review'd._

**A/N: seriously, reviews are like happiness in words. Perhaps I'm not the best writer ever, but I need feedback :c**

********

I'm not usually one to drown in self-pity, but it's _Christmas,_ and I'm not sitting in my apartment, buried under all the blankets I own; I'm standing here, surrounded by stage equipment, and my girlfriend is nowhere to be seen. Come to think of it, where's that engineer I hired? It's quite a bit later than we'd agreed on—seriously, who am I kidding? He's nearly three hours late. I ignore the throbbing headache forming at my temple and stand there, pressed for a solution to my problems.

Someone else enters—probably someone else Maureen's called over, some other poor soul dragged out of their home at Christmastime. It's a man; he's pale, and wearing a brown coat and a blue-and-white scarf. His blond hair is ruffled from the wind, and he's got a messenger bag at his side. He looks oddly similar to a description given by Maureen…

_"I swear to God, I'm over him!" she insists.  
"With you, Mo, I can never be sure. What's he like?" Curiosity got the best of me.  
"Well, he's pale, we were always teasing him about it, and he's got blond hair and wears glasses and he likes to film, and he has this scarf…"  
Oh, God. "What's his name?"  
"Mark…"_

**Shit.**

"You're Mark?" I say, kind of hostile already, because that's the standard for meeting one of Maureen's exes. Someone else who couldn't resist her charm. He looks confused for a second, then just a bit angry, then hurt. Seriously, it makes me a little remorseful just looking at him.

"Joanne?"

****

**A/N: I'm not really sure how to write the song into it. I forgot if Mark was holding his camera or not as well. I think it was in his bag, maybe? **


	4. warmth

Warmth was something Mark Cohen had always cherished, and he could prove that. Although there was usually no heat in the loft, he'd stocked it well with blankets, as well as that Snuggie thing Roger had wanted. Usually Mark's general line of thinking was something like "I'd rather be sweating than freezing"; he found it unusual, then, when it was a perfectly nice spring morning, and he still couldn't get warm. In fact, he was shivering under a ton of blankets, and he didn't want to know why.

Roger pushed aside the curtain separating his room from the main part of the loft, got out a chipped bowl, and poured in some cereal. Opening the fridge, he saw that there was no milk inside.

"Yo, Mark, where's the milk?" he called.

"Screw milk, I'm cold…" Mark muttered from under the covers on the couch.

"What was that, buddy?" Roger asked, looking around the rest of the room and… not seeing anyone. "Mark?"

"Under here," Mark sighed. He stuck a hand out from the pile of blankets and waved.

"Oh. Where's the milk?"

"We don't have any."

"Darn. Do you think you could run out and get some?"

"No, Roger. I'm really cold…"

"Oh. I guess that's why you're under those blank—wait, it's spring. You're not supposed to be cold, Mark."

"Sorry…?"

"Oh, it's alright. I'll just go get some myself."

The rocker exited the loft, leaving Mark to shiver. Sometimes he could be so _dense._

****

**A/N: I love making Roger stupid xD R&R!**


	5. M&Ms

Mark realizes that what gets to him about Maureen is that she gives him this sickly-sweet smile and tells him it's okay, it's alright, she'll protect poor little Marky from the world, now that Roger can't.

So she and Joanne come to spend the night with him  
(visitinghoursareover,sir)  
and he can't stand it, he just can't.  
He goes to get them blankets and stops next to the bathroom.

(terribleheadachepoundingpainouch)

Opening the medicine cabinet, Mark sees the Advil. Pain killer. That's what it is. Can it kill Mark's pain?

The top of the bottle is removed. Peering into it, Mark sees that these are oddly-shaped Advil. Round, like M&Ms.

Mark wonders if there ever were pink M&Ms.

He takes two out and swallows them, followed closely by a bit of water.  
It's not working and he knows he should wait. Little M&Ms, pretty in pink.

Maybe he should eat them all.

****

**A/N: I had a headache last night, and the Advil I usually see are more oval-y. They did remind me of M&Ms.  
Anyway, review!**


	6. the rmacjmmm

**A/N: Guess what! I just went to the store! And I love going to the store! So here's a story about it. By the way, it switches POVs a bunch of times. Sorry if people get confused.**

****

One day, I was extremely bored. Mark was off filming homeless people, Collins was off with Angel, and Mimi was playing with her kitten Mew. I was feeling really lazy until I realized a tragic fact—we were out of Cap'n Crunch! Then I started asking myself some questions.

"Roger," I said to myself, "why are we always out of things? Why am I talking to myself? Where, for the love of plaid, is that fucking guy Waldo?!" I thought for like, forever (we are talking five minutes plus, here) and came to a conclusion: we need to go shopping more often! Even ex-junkie hardcore rockstars need a shopping spree now and then!

"But Roger, you're practically a hermit! You can't leave the house now," I explained. I pouted for awhile, but then I had a brilliant idea! We should open a store right here! Right in this loft. What should we call it? Just then, Mark walked through the door.

"Mark!" I cried, grabbing his shoulders. "I am in a fucking CRISIS!"

He looked at me funny. "… And what would that be, Roger?"

"I'm having problems deciding on the name for our store!" I screamed.

"Store? What store?" Mark asked, confused. He pulled off his coat and took his camera out of his bag.

"Good idea, Mark, let's film a commercial!" I said. "Lights! Camera! Action!"  
The camera started rolling.

"HIIIIII!" I said to the camera. "Bored of typical convenience stores? Wanna walk up a whole bunch of steps for food?! Well come on down… well, actually up… to, umm, Roger-Marky Mini Mart!"

"Roger-Marky Mini Mart?" Mark questioned from behind the camera, raising an eyebrow.  
"Yeah, it sounds better than Roger and Marky's Mini Mart, that's just a mouthful," I whispered.

"Don't raise your fucking eyebrow in disbelief!" I told the camera. "Get your ass off the couch and go to Roger-Marky Mini Mart!"

I danced around, showing off our fantabulous layout and our couch and spacious bathroom, until I was certain that we'd get customers. I mean, who wouldn't go to the store to watch me dance? Not that I'd be like Mimi or anything. I hoped perverted old men didn't start coming here too.

After that, I held up a sign that said we did not sell clothes, personal belongings, toilet paper, refrigerators, counters, flooring, wallpaper, scarves, plaid items, film, or electronics, or anything other than food. I said the words on the sign really fast like they do at the end of commercials for action figures and stuff. Then Mark turned off the camera and I did a little victory dance.

"YES! We can open tomorrow!" I said, excitement rising in my entire being. Mark rolled his eyes and sat on the couch.

"Of course, you do realize we have to have food to sell it, right?" he asked me with a worried look in his eyes. "And we don't have a sign or anything."

I panicked. "OH NO! I FORGOT ABOUT THAT PART!" I yelled, running into my room. After rummaging around for what seemed like forever, I found some poster board and an array of Sharpies. "Mark, I need your amazing lettering skills," I said, shoving the poster board in his face. "Make sure it's pretty and rainbow-y and attracts customers, okay?"

He sighed and took the Sharpies out of my hand. "Excellent," I muttered to myself. "Now for food…"

****

Mimi was sitting on her couch peacefully, petting her kitten. It had been an exhausting day, and she was glad to be home. She was thinking about visiting Roger, but he beat her to it when he ran in the door screaming about food and mini-marts, and she felt the beginnings of a migraine.

"MIMI!" Roger yelled. "Make some food, pleasy pleasy please! I need some to sell tomorrow at the Roger-Marky Mini Mart!"

Mimi paused. "Will you change it to the Roger-Marky Mimi Mart?"  
Roger shrugged. "Okay."

Mimi punched the air. "Yes! Let me call Angel," she said, running out the door and upstairs to the loft. Roger followed.

****

When I got back to the loft, Mark had finished 'Roger-Marky' and was starting on 'Mini' when I stopped him.

"Wait! Mimi said she'll make food to sell if we change the name to the Roger-Marky Mimi Mart!" I explained. Meanwhile, Mimi had hung up the phone and said, "Add Angel and Collins in there too, and heck, put Maureen and Joanne in there too, because you know they'll be here."

Mark, confused again, decided on the Roger-Marky Angel Collins Joanne Maureen Mimi Mart. Underneath, he wrote 'formerly the Roger-Marky Mini Mart' and supposed it would have to do. Suddenly, he realized that he hadn't even submitted the commercial anywhere yet. Maybe his connections on Buzzline could help. He shuddered and picked up the phone. "Alexi? I need a favor."

****

Joanne was reading a book when the phone rang. She got up and answered it. "Joanne Jefferson speaking," she said. Roger's voice on the other end caused her to wince and hold the phone away, where she could still hear him clearly. "Okay, we'll be there," she murmured. "Although we may have some legal issues. You'll need a license."

Roger stopped talking. "Don't worry, I could probably arrange it for you," Joanne said, internally groaning. The things you do for friends…

Roger thanked her and hung up. Joanne changed outfits and called out to her girlfriend.  
"Mo? We're needed at the loft. Mark and Roger are opening a mini-mart!"

****

I thought Maureen and Joanne would never get here with our license. When they did, I pounced on it and put it in a frame. I nailed it to the wall, smiling widely.

"Sorry we're late," Joanne apologized. "The people there didn't want to part with that license."  
"It's all good," I said. _Roger, you have done it again, _I congratulated myself in my mind. _This is gonna be the best store ever!_

****

The next day, the Roger-Marky Collins Angel Joanne Maureen Mimi Mart was open for business. Mark and Joanne were surprised to see that they actually got some customers. Roger was the greeter for the store, inviting the people in and sometimes striking up a conversation. Mimi was the cashier. Mark filmed everything, and Joanne made sure there were no legal problems, but Maureen had nothing to do, so she started singing in the middle of the loft, claiming to be the 'entertainment'.

When the day was over, they had made approximately $1,400 dollars, which split seven ways for $200 dollars each, and they used the remaining cash to buy a 'Closed' sign, which hung on the door forever afterwards, each boho remembering that crazy time when they'd been a store for a day.

It's amazing what you come up with when you act on boredom.

****

**A/N: That was probably the longest thing I have ever written. Ever. And I did it for you guys! So review, please :D**


	7. cat

**a/n: Hi! I've been wanting to write something for this for awhile, but I hadn't decided until today…**

********

It was quite the normal afternoon in the loft. Mark was out filming who knows what (probably homeless people), Mimi was downstairs, playing with her cat, and I was… incredibly bored. Again. Suddenly I heard footsteps! Maybe it was someone interesting. Mimi came in, cat in tow. I leaned back on the couch, groaning internally. I cannot stand this cat. Maybe we just don't get along, or I'm not a cat person, but it has it in for me. I see it in its beady little eyes… maybe it's plotting murder… jeez, I'm paranoid.

Anyway, Mimi's particular thing she wanted me to do was look after this cat. I was like, no way, but she was like, okay, I'll bring you some donuts on my way home, you mofo, so I agreed. As soon as Mimi breezed out the door, humming some Christmas tune, the cat and I sized each other up. Then it started cleaning itself. Ew, now I know this cat's a she.

_This is for donuts, _I reminded myself, _so you gotta do it. _The cat was just staring at me now, looking smug. I reached over to pet her, smiling as she started purring. Maybe this wasn't so bad. I was just getting used to this when Mark walked in the door, spooking Kitty, who jumped on me and dug her claws in. I started screaming.

"Mark! Get this goddamn thing off my fucking shirt! It's gonna have like a thousand holes in it! I swear to God, I got this shirt made after my first concert! It's SPECIAL!!"

Mark calmly put his camera down on a counter, came over to me, and removed the cat, who practically leaped into his arms and started purring. I puffed out my cheeks for a couple seconds, then held out my shirt to examine it. It was alright except for a tear across the left sleeve. It looked natural, so I shrugged it off and stared at Mark.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Charm the cat! What else?"

"Beats me. Maybe if you didn't try so hard..."

"Ouch, Mark..." I frowned.

"Sorry."

"Hey, wanna find some string? Maybe she'll play."

"Sounds fun, but I have to make food. Collins and Angel are coming over later."

I scoffed. "What're you gonna make? Cap'n Crunch a la mode?"

"Good point."

****

Half an hour later, we had pretty much trashed the entire loft. Every plastic bag we owned was on the floor; every single piece of string we could find was attached to me or the cat. Mark, the cat, and I were sprawled near the couch, relaxing. We heard footsteps, and Mark sat up. Kitty's ears pricked.

Mimi shoved the door open and gasped. "Wow, guys," she giggled. "Just a bit messy."

"Oh, yeah," I told her, "Kitty wanted us to play."

"Her name is Mew. How many times am I gonna have to tell you?"

"I dunno. I think Kitty is hungry, though."

Mimi sighed. "That's okay." She shifted the box she was holding before giving it to me. "Here are your donuts."

Yum. Grease, glaze, bread, and fat, all in one tasty package. Donuts are great.

Picking up the cat, Mimi went downstairs to her apartment. Mark and I got up only to discover how messy the loft really was.

"Great golly goodness," I said, "we'd better clean this up."


	8. snowman

**a/n: We got tons of snow on Saturday so we don't have school tomorrow! :D  
this chapter is devoid of questionable language for my bestie.**

**and ., I dunno why Mark was all depressed. I don't remember being depressed when I wrote that… ha… :)**

********

It was an early morning in New York City, and Mark was fully intending to spend it asleep— until Roger came barreling in the door screaming about snow.

"We have _got _to make a snowman!" Roger said excitedly. "Do we have carrots? Like not the baby kind, the big daddy kind that make snowman noses?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then we gotta make a snowman! I wonder if we have a spare pair of gloves and a hat… oh, and a coat!"

"Roger, you need to be wearing your coat."

"No, I was gonna use yours!"

"…"

"Just kidding! Haha, I bet we have an extra somewhere… if all else fails, I bet we can use one of our Snuggies."

"So it can get stolen by some random person in Central Park?"

"Central Park, that's a great idea! I was just gonna build it outside somewhere. Let's go, Mark! Get up!"

"Roger, can't you let me sleep for just awhile longer?"

"No! Get up, Mark!"

"No…"

"Getupgetupgetupgetupgetup!"

"…Fine."

Mark rolled off of his mattress, resigning himself to Roger's plan. Snow was just peachy, but building a snowman at 7:00 in the morning was not exactly appealing. He dragged on his coat and made sure Roger had his before they left the loft with a carrot, a pair of mittens, and a hat that Roger had located underneath the couch.

The two roommates reached Central Park at about 7:30. People were already starting to mill around; photographers and children alike were marveling at the fresh blanket of snow. Roger decided to stroll over to a patch of snow and started making a snowball. Mark sat on a nearby bench to watch until the oddly immature, kind-of rockstar turned to him and made a "come here" motion with his hand.

"C'mon, Mark, you're just sitting there," Roger pleaded. "Come help me with his body."

Mark smiled. "Fine, Roger, whatever floats your boat."

"Who said I had a boat to float on?! Just help me build the stupid snowman."

Mark shuffled over to him, kicking a bit of snow onto the growing pile in Roger's hand. The rest of it went onto the bulky coat that the guitarist wore.

"Hey! You trying to start a snowball fight?" Roger asked, a challenge in his voice. He bent down to the ground, depositing his snowball, then he made another and fired it at Mark, hitting him in the chest. Mark looked at Roger devilishly.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

The next thing Roger knew was that he was being pelted by snowballs, and he was being pelted fast. Fortunately, he thought fast. He dove behind a nearby bench, using the aged wood as a shield. The barrage of snowballs stopped for awhile, but when he peeked over the edge, a snowball whizzed over his head. Looking more secretly through the slits, he saw that Collins had arrived with Angel, and Mark had combined their forces to make a team.

"So unfair," Roger said to himself.

"Wanna do something about it?" a voice said from behind him.

Maureen stood there with Joanne reluctantly at her side.

"We can totally turn the tables on them," the drama queen informed him. "Just shake on it."

Roger shook her hand enthusiastically. "Welcome to Team Roger!"

Maureen coughed. "We need a new name, but whatever."

"No way, 'cause Team Roger is the awesomest name in the awesome history of awesome awesomeness."

"Can you even use awesome that many times in one sentence?" Joanne inquired.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Do you know why? Because I'm awesomely awesome," Roger said.

Joanne had already begun to make a snowball, and so had Maureen. Roger started stockpiling snowballs next to him, and he suspected that the enemy was doing the same. Finally, when they had enough snowballs, he divvied them up and jumped out from behind the bench.

"Okay, you evil filmmaker and your equally evil anarchist and your slightly less evil drag queen! Get ready to meet your match… TEAM ROGER STYLE!"


End file.
